Archive of Our Own

Gilbert Norrell gave a lot more thought to the third-rate theoretical magician named John Segundus than the latter warranted, and he attempted to catalogue the reasons why. This was a struggle, because none of those reasons seemed entirely sufficient.

The first one was that Mr Segundus refused to sign the agreement not to study magic that Mr Norrell put forth to all the members of the York Society of Magicians to sign. It hardly mattered. The young man had neither the capacity to do magic spontaneously nor access to books of magic, so he could not become a practical magician either way. The second one was that the man wrote a letter to the editor of The Times recounting the magic performed by Mr Norrell in the York Cathedral, and set the whole of London abuzz about Mr Norrell's impending arrival. Norrell grudgingly appreciated the fact that Mr Segundus refrained from injecting his own speculation about the spell Mr Norrell performed, thus showing a better judgement than one could expect from a typical dilettante. Still, this was hardly enough reason to keep remembering Mr Segundus, and his visit to Hurtfew Abbey, so often.

Well, calling him a typical dilettante was perhaps a bit unjustified. Mr Segundus showed himself to be rather more knowledgeable about the history of magic than most third-rate scholars, as evidenced by his book on Martin Pale's fairy servants. A few times Norrell had an unbidden vision of sitting down with Segundus by the fire and asking him how he arrived at some of his conclusions. For example, his theory that Hobbin Jack was the fairy to which Doctor Pale turned for transmogrification was a curious one. The evidence for that was indeed present in the sources, but it would be apparent only to a discerning mind. The notion of chatting with Segundus popped into his head with frequency he never afforded to any living man. The only persons he thought so much about were the Aureates and Argentines, all long dead.

Such a meeting could reveal where Mr Segundus found the source of those facts. Whether it was a book or some old magic magazines that Mr Norrell had not yet obtained, he needed to find out and send Childermass on the trail of that publication. Such materials could not be allowed to float around and be accessible to the general public.

So that would be a rational reason to want to see the man again. But even that did not explain why he thought about Segundus so often. Then he had a sudden flash of insight.

"Childermass!" he said, causing his man-of-business to look up from his desk. "Didn't you say that gentleman... what's his name..." Norrell pretended to have difficulty recalling the theoretical magician's name, surprising himself that he felt a need to do it. "... Mr Segundus, right? The one that did not sign the contract? Didn't you say that he had a vague memory of having seen you before?"

"That's right, sir," said Childermass. "He recognized me, but he did not remember from where."

"So the amnesia spell did not work on him completely," said Norrell. "How peculiar. I'm quite sure he did not cast any spell to counteract it, as I do not think he is capable of it. But perhaps he has some latent ability for magic that sometimes manifests as resistance to spells. That would be an interesting thing to investigate. Not that I will ever have an opportunity."

He stared off into the middle distance. Childermass raised an eyebrow and waited in respectful silence to see if the master had anything more to add. Then, before Mr Norrell could go back to his work, Childermass mentioned that Mr and Mrs Rutledge - Mr Norrell's neighbors whose estate bordered Hurtfew Abbey - sent an invitation to a soiree at their house two weeks from now. And since it's been nearly a quarter without Mr Norrell making any social appearances, he was overdue for one. As much as Norrell detested those obligations, he took Childermass's word for it that he needed to cultivate at least a minimal level of social engagements to maintain the good will of his neighbors. It was even harder to see why it was still necessary when he was about to move to London, but Norrell trusted Childermass in these matters.

* * *

When Norrell arrived at the Rutledges' mansion, he was in a preliminary sour mood. He could not wait to put in the minimal time that an obligation required, get through the evening and get back home. And then, standing in the drawing room, he saw a face he never expected to see again. The dark-haired theoretical magician milled about hesitantly by the fireplace, his eyes darting from guest to guest. Norrell had no idea that Mr Segundus knew the Rutledges. Apparently the young gentleman was building all sorts of connections in York and the surrounding areas, trying to integrate himself into the society to which Norrell never paid much regard, and which he now was preparing to leave with no regrets.

When Segundus' gaze met Norrell's across the drawing room, it was for just half a second. The older magician looked away, but not before he noticed that Segundus's eyes went as wide as that instant in the Hurtfew Abbey library when he beheld Mr Norrell's magic book collection. Segundus immediately started making his way through the crowd. Mr Norrell always dreaded the moment when someone was about to approach him, but now he was buoyed by an odd thrill.

First they had to exchange the usual pleasantries, the most unpleasant part of a social interaction for Mr Norrell, but finally he was free to proceed with the questions he wanted to ask.

"Mr Segundus, I was thinking about your work on Martin Pale's fairy servants. I wondered where you found the evidence that Master Briarwillow was the fairy to whom Doctor Pale turned when he needed to retrieve secrets from people's dreams."

"Oh," said Segundus. "It was because Master Briarwillow was mentioned by Edric Goodweather as a fairy that often took the guise of a fox. I also noticed that in his work "A Treatise Concerning the Wandering Soul" Doctor Pale thanks a certain fox that would slip into people's dreams to bring him back secrets from them. That was one clue. Then I found additional clues in the Annals of the Manchester Society of Magicians..."

Norrell listened with growing interest and realization that he had not thought about this before, and had never expected to run into a person who had examined certain aspects of magical history more thoroughly than him. Not only this was the first man he had ever met with whom he could talk about his greatest interest in depth, but this was also someone who could, if not teach him something new, then at least to get him to think deeper about some things.

The next couple of hours passed in an instant. The blur of an all-engrossing conversation was, in a way, like a spell of amnesia. Mr Norrell could not remember who else was in the room or what was served for dinner. But unlike Mr Segundus emerging from Hurtfew Abbey with no recollection of what he saw there, Mr Norrell resurfaced from this chat with a few more ideas for magical experiments and a few more insights to test. And best of all, he had an ironclad excuse to invite Mr Segundus for a visit: their mutual wish to continue their conversation.

Still, it was only an excuse. The real reason for Norrell inviting Segundus was his curiosity about Segundus's latent magical abilities. After much hesitation, he decided to teach Segundus a spell.

That should make those brown eyes fixate on him again like on the greatest wonder of the world.

Startled, Norrell pushed away an unbecoming thought. Yes, he will teach Segundus a spell, even though he would normally back away from that thought in terror. This will be different, as he was going to erase Mr Segundus' memories of the meeting. This time he planned to make the magic of amnesia extra strong to ensure that the visit left no trace in Segundus's mind. Anything he was going to tell or show him, anything they will say or do, will be forgotten.

The thought was so freeing, it made him lightheaded with possibilities.

* * *

"You have an impressive background in theoretical magic," said Norrell when he and Segundus were drinking tea in the Hurtfew Abbey drawing room. Segundus's brown eyes - so dark as to be almost Italian, such an unusual sight in Norrell's milieu: he had not met any Italians and had only seen them in paintings - were fixed on Norrell as attentively as during their first meeting; however, he was a lot less talkative. He also blushed several times when Norrell looked at him. He was perhaps star-struck to be in the environs of the only practical magician in England. Unlike the fools from the former York Society of Magicians, this gentleman did not doubt that Norrell could do magic; when Norrell spoke about certain spells he had performed, Segundus got a wistful look in his eyes as if gazing at an unattainable star.

And so Norrell believed that his forthcoming proposal would be received favorably. "Have you tried casting any spells?" he said.

"I have not," said Segundus with that wistful look in his eyes again. "I've had significant difficulty obtaining any books where actual spell-casting procedures are described."

"Understandable," said Norrell. "Well, would you like me to teach you some spells?"

Segundus nearly choked on his tea. "Oh, Mr Norrell, that would be most wonderful. I'm just afraid I don't have a talent for it."

"You won't know until you try," said Norrell. "Are there any specific spells you would like to learn?"

"I... umm... Forgive me, sir, but I did not anticipate this question and haven't given much thought to what spells could be reasonable for a beginner like me to learn. Oh... well... Might I ask you to teach me to amplify the light in the room? Like I suppose you have done here in the drawing room? Please correct me if I'm wrong, but the room seems brighter than the firelight alone could explain."

"You are right, the firelight is amplified by magic, and I think it's a reasonable spell for a beginner to learn. Let us get started, shall we?"

Segundus nodded, enthusiastic and anxious.

"First I will explain the principle on which the light amplification spell operates," said Norrell. "The basic notion is simple. You noticed that candles, reflected in the mirror, double their illumination. By magic, one can make light reflect off of any surface. Walls, windows, furniture, bookcases, the spines of books - anything. By magic you can make a surface mirror-like, but it will not appear so to a naked eye. You will only notice that there is a lot more light in the room."

Segundus nodded again.

"Allow me to write down this spell for you," said Norrell. He sat down at the writing desk and wrote for a minute. Then he handed the paper to Segundus. "These are the words of the spell, but they alone are insufficient. They only work when your mind is in a state where you grasp that the qualities of things that you so far considered to be inherent to them, can be separated from them. For example, we don't think that reflectivity can be separated from a mirror; you can't imagine reflectivity without imagining a surface that reflects. But if you separate it, you can transfer it to other things."

Segundus looked puzzled but eager to understand. "It is a special state of mind, you say?"

"That's right, a special state of mind," said Norrell. "It feels as if you are facing the unseen side of all things. Imagine, if you will, all the buildings in the city turning round and everything facing in another direction.¹ "

Segundus did not show any glimmer of recognition.

"I also call it 'the state of impossibility', or 'the state of world-turning-inside-out'," Norrell said. Segundus did not look like this made things clearer for him. He asked: "And how would I enter this state, sir?"

Norrell paused to think. "To own the truth, I don't have an exact method for entering it, at least not one I could explain step-by-step. It happens to me naturally. But I can try to explain it by example. You were at the York Cathedral when I made the statues move, correct?"

"Yes, sir. That was one of the most unforgettable moments of my life."

"After the statues stopped moving, did you notice if, perhaps, the shadows in the room faced the wrong way?"

"I don't really recall anything like that, sir."

"Well, I wasn't there, so I don't know if that happened, but it's likely, as it is a common after-effect of a spell. It's how world-turning-inside-out manifests in tangible ways. I was hoping that as a person sensitive to magic, at that moment you might have experienced that special state. Like a wave that washes over you before receding. But you haven't. Let me see if I can find other ways to explain it."

But all he had were comparisons and analogies, not instructions on how to make it happen. This was ironically similar to how other people had states of mind that were unattainable to him, such as finding "jokes" funny.

Still, Segundus was sensitive to magic, as Norrell already discovered. Maybe this could be leveraged somehow. He got an idea. "Mr Segundus, you told me that the first time when you were following me to the library, you felt like you were walking in the fifth direction of the compass². Am I remembering that right?"

"That's right," said Segundus.

"Perhaps you could try to recall that sensation. It is likely to lead you into the state I was talking about. The state of impossibility. Because the fifth direction of the compass is something that cannot possibly exist in the ordinary world."

Segundus smiled shyly and regretfully. "I would love to, sir, but the truth is I've forgotten what it was like. It was very peculiar. I tried to recall it afterwards and could not."

"Well, I could lead you to the library again, and maybe it will come back to you," said Norrell. "In fact, if you were to attempt casting a spell, it might be better in the library."

In truth, there was no reason why it would be better: he just wanted to see John Segundus' eyes light up again at the sight of all the rare books. There was no risk in that: he would make Segundus forget it all after leaving Hurtfew Abbey; this time Norrell was going to make sure of that.

Segundus' eyes lit up as if on cue.

"Why don't we go right now? And please pay attention to the perception of that which you call "the fifth direction of the compass" as we walk. Hold on to that sense of impossibility as you enter the library. Once we are in the library, you can try casting the spell immediately, before it fades from your mind."

"I'll do my best, sir," said Segundus. "I'm very excited to try it."

"Let us go. Please stay close to me." Norrell added that last instruction with hesitation, because in reality he was uneasy at the thought of someone following him closely. But the impending proximity of this young, dark-haired man carried a previously unknown thrill.

They left. Segundus stayed a little further behind than what Norrell would have called "close", even though Norrell had a vague idea that his notion of "close" implied a further distance than that of most people's. Soon, however, Segundus's shadow on the wall of the windowless corridor fell behind and Norrell realized that his guest stopped walking. He turned around. Segundus had one hand on the stone wall, supporting himself, and clutched his head with the other.

"Pardon me, Mr Norrell, I think the labyrinth magic is making me dizzy," he said. He took a few deep breaths. "We can continue," he said, looking pale in the light of the lamp Norrell held. His hair seemed to be curiously floating up in corkscrews. Norrell had an impulse to offer him his arm. This would be appropriate in the circumstances, and Segundus would have no reason to perceive this as being too forward. Or would he? Norrell hesitated, overcome with fear that his motivations were not completely pure, and that somehow Segundus would be able to discern them. So he said nothing.

As they resumed walking, Segundus traced the wall with his hand. When they emerged into the daylight of the library, he appeared pale beyond any doubt, and Norrell immediately urged him to sit down. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to suggest to Segundus to perform magic right now, even though his mind, having just experienced the impossible fifth direction, was as primed as it could be.

"Now, as I said before, I would encourage you to hold on to the sense of the fifth direction, because that's the state of mind that enables you to cast a spell. However, I think it made you ill, didn't it?" Norrell asked.

"It did," said Segundus. "As soon as we set out down the corridor, the sense of the nonexistent direction assaulted my senses really badly; for some reason it was worse than the last time. But after we stopped, I was able to re-orient myself. I have some lingering effects, but they are not too terrible."

Re-orient? Hmm, Norrell thought. Did this mean Segundus fought off the magic that made the labyrinth so hard to navigate? It would be interesting to know how he did it and how he so quickly developed a resistance to the directional confusion. But Norrell did not want to ponder it right now, because Segundus needed to preserve this state of mind before it faded, so he could attempt to cast a spell. He had to strike the iron while it was hot.

"Do you still recall that sense?" he asked Segundus.

"I may be able to," Segundus said with some hesitation. "Though I'm afraid it might bring back the dizziness again. But I should try, because I want nothing better than to cast a spell."

Segundus leaned back on the sopha and closed his eyes. Then immediately clutched his head.

"I am sorry, it is making me dizzy all over again." He sagged against the sopha back, breathing shallowly.

"Shall I, uh, get you some water, sir? Or, um, a damp washcloth?" Norrell frantically thought of any remedies for dizziness he might have heard of. For some reason he didn't want to ring for a servant: it seemed more appropriate that he take care of Segundus himself. Without waiting for Segundus to reply (for the man did not seem capable of responding right now), he went to the table, dipped a handkerchief in a jar with cool water that he used for scrying, wrung it out and brought it to Segundus. The man's eyes were half-closed, unseeing; his arms limp. And Norrell, who never in his life had tried to comfort anyone, took a step unimaginable to himself. He pressed the damp handkerchief to Segundus forehead.

In a few moments Segundus's eyes slowly opened and flicked towards Norrell, rewarding his efforts.

"Thank you, sir. I am really sorry that it affected me this way."

He reached for the handkerchief that Norrell still kept pressed to his brow, and his fingers brushed against Norrell's, sending a surge through him. Norrell quickly withdrew his hand.

"Oh, do not apologize," said Norrell. "Perhaps I should not have suggested that you recall a sensation that made you ill the first time."

Segundus smiled weakly. "I am feeling better now, sir. I re-oriented myself again. Unfortunately, it means that that state of impossibility, as you called it, is beyond my reach. And since it is necessary for casting a spell, that means magic might also be unattainable for me."

"Ah." Norrell wasn't sure what to say. Far from the secret excitement and pride that arose every time when he reminded himself he was the only person in English capable of doing practical magic, he felt a little dejected about Segundus's failure. He used to fear that another practical magician might appear in England one day, but now that one was close to appearing and did not, he realized what he had been missing. How different life would be if he had a friend to do magic with!

He immediately chided himself for this nonsense. Even if Segundus could do magic, he would not become a friend. Both because Norrell was moving to London, and, most importantly, because Segundus will forget this meeting and any spell he might have performed. The interests of English magic required it to be walled off from anyone who might use it in ways Norrell did not approve.

Staring off to middle distance, Segundus looked more defeated by the second. Against his better judgement Norrell gave in to the urge to comfort him.

"I can see why you reached that conclusion," said Norrell. "But it does not necessarily follow. Perhaps it just means that the sense of the fifth direction of the compass is not the way to enter it."

Segundus gave him a look of great gratitude and relief.

"Learning magic is not instant," Norrell added. "It might require trying many approaches. It took me many attempts to succeed at my first spell!"

"You are so gracious to give me hope, sir," said Segundus and smiled.

The hope was false, of course. There won't be a next time for Segundus. Upon leaving Hurtfew Abbey he'll immediately forget what happened here; halfway to his home he'll struggle to remember where he had been. And then - and then that knowledge emboldened Norrell. He patted Segundus hand, and allowed his hand to rest on Segundus's a moment too long. This was enough for the younger man to seize the opportunity. Dropping the handkerchief, Segundus put his other palm on top of Norrell's hand. Slightly damp and cool, it was a vivid contrast to the heat that was burning up Norrell from inside. At that point the choice was up to him whether to withdraw his hand. He did not. He sat there immobile, not daring to speculate what will happen next, like in a dream where ordinary reality could morph into something your mind could never conceive.

Segundus eyes were full of the same wonder that he previously radiated at the library books, but now it was directed at the magician. He put one hand on Norrell's shoulder, leaned forward and kissed him. This was all a dream, Norrell thought again, as he didn't know how to react to this and how to respond to the small movements of Segundus's lips. If this had happened in ordinary life, he would have died of embarrassment and bolted out of the room; but this was a time outside time, a time the other fellow would never remember, and what happened now made no difference. There was no need to run. And he allowed the kiss to go wherever it went and for however long it went, with his mind gradually having less and less to say in the matter.

Finally Segundus broke off the kiss and drew back a little, gazing at Norrell with eyes that were in equal measure tenderness and fire. "I could never imagine meeting anyone like you," said the dark-eyed man and tilted his head in amazement. Then he went for another kiss, and this one seemed bolder, and Norrell, driven by an unfamiliar, dormant instinct, responded more boldly. It all didn't matter. He was sinking into oblivion.

He realized with the last, fleeting thoughts that he would not be able to cast any spell right now, not any more than he could cast a spell when he was ill. The magical subsurface of the world seemed buried under something; it was a bit like having your magic suffocated by a thick, rough blanket of a fever; but this muffling force was radiant, like northern lights suffusing the sky and hiding the stars. Still, the effect was the same. The magic was hidden.

He pulled away in sudden horror. If he could not cast the spell of amnesia, Segundus might remember what happened here.

Segundus reacted keenly to Norrell's alarmed expression. "I am deeply sorry, sir, for my... my..." he searched for a word, "... impertinence". "Oh no, no offense taken. It is as much my responsibility as yours," Norrell replied in a hurry, unable to look the fellow in the eye. He turned towards the window, through which the pale grey light of an overcast afternoon was filtering in, shrouding the room in shallow shadows, leaving everything - the furniture, the books, the two men - in an in-between world, softening the harsh inevitability of mundane reality with dreamy blurriness of magic. The ground outside was getting whiter. The snow was coming down in fine flakes that would soon turn into chunks. Within hours the earth will be swallowed by a white sheet of oblivion. That was the kind of oblivion he wanted to stay under with Segundus, both forgetting what, who, or where they were.

Instead, he had to stick to his plan and induce a different kind of amnesia, the kind that would affect only one of them.

"The snowfall is picking up," he said, not looking at the other man, even though he knew he was wasting a few precious moments while he could still take a good look at him. Once Segundus left, he'd be gone from Norrell's life forever. "The roads might become impassable in an hour or two."

The words implied that it was time for Segundus to leave, even if that wasn't what Norrell wanted in his heart. What he wanted was to be snowed in here with Segundus for days, the whole world pristine, the everyday concerns hidden under the blanket of snow, just the two of them with no one interfering. That was impossible, of course; not only the young man was expected back home (if only by his landlady), but, most importantly, a memory that spanned several days would be pretty hard for Norrell to erase.

"You are right, sir, I must go. I won't take up any more of your time," said Segundus. Norrell did not try to correct his misconception that Segundus was taking his time away from more important matters. They had to make a clean break, and more talk would only make it harder.

"Might I be permitted to write to you?" said Segundus. "It would give me enormous pleasure."

"The pleasure would be all mine," Norrell replied. The words were both true and completely empty, since as soon as Segundus passes through Hurtfew gate, he will forget ever wanting to communicate with Norrell. It was time to cast the spell of oblivion. The contours of the magical other-side-of-reality were coming back, and while that would have been a most wonderful and welcome sign had he been emerging from an illness, right now it was bittersweet. He knew what he was giving up.

He poured all his focus into inducing amnesia. Not a single word of their conversation should remain in Segundus's mind. An hour after leaving Hurtfew Abbey Segundus will suddenly start wondering what he was doing in this part of Yorkshire: was he going on an errand or returning from one? (It was convenient that he did not tell anyone, including his landlady, where he was going: he admitted so much to Norrell. After they were forced to sign away their right to study magic, Segundus's friends and former colleagues, and even his landlady, would not have approved of his continued association with the self-proclaimed sole magician of Yorkshire.)

* * *

The following days were an exhausting, tedious whirlwind of making decisions about what to take to London and what to leave here, the days of packing and supervising the servants to take the greatest care with books and other precious items. But all the bustle never put Segundus and the kiss too far out of Norrell's mind, as much as he tried to bury that memory under the snow.

And then one day came a letter in the post. It was from Segundus.

He was saying that he missed his conversation with Norrell so much, and thought back upon it so often, that he took the liberty of writing to Norrell even before the latter left for London. He also wished the magician an easy trip and reiterated his confidence in Norrell astonishing all of London and indeed all of England with his magic.

Norrell stared at the letter in horror. Segundus remembered.

Perhaps that should not have been surprising. While walking through the Hurtfew Abbey labyrinth Segundus managed to reorient himself and resist the confusion spell, so he might have been remarkably resistant to magic. If he were anyone else, Norrell would have pondered this fact with great interest. But now he was filled with terror. He should have paid attention to how quickly Segundus recovered from magical disorientation, he should have thought of implications of this for the spell of oblivion. But he had been too lost in the moment.

If Segundus remembered the conversation, he also remembered the other activity their mouths did. The thought was so unbearable that Norrell never replied to that letter. He left for London determined to never write to John Segundus.